


Expectations

by redex_writes



Category: A Way Out (Video Game)
Genre: Barebacking, Biting, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Like lots of it, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Play Fighting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Tropes, Wrestling, kind of, pure filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28366686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redex_writes/pseuds/redex_writes
Summary: In Leo’s fantasies, Vincent is rough.To be fair, it’s not a huge stretch. He’s seen him hold his own in a fight, has seen him handle a gun like a pro and move fast as hell when he wants to. It isn’t hard to imagine that under his typical cool, calm demeanour, he’s got a fire in him that could burn Leo alive if he pushed hard enough.Andgod, does Leo want to push.+As they evade the law yet again, Leo finds that it’s getting harder and harder to ignore how much he’s drawn to Vincent. He wants him--but it’s an impossible fantasy, and he isn’t going to let that ruin things between them.He hopes.
Relationships: Leo Caruso/Vincent Moretti
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	Expectations

In Leo’s fantasies, Vincent is rough.

To be fair, it’s not a huge stretch. He’s seen him hold his own in a fight, has seen him handle a gun like a pro and move fast as hell when he wants to. It isn’t hard to imagine that under his typical cool, calm demeanour, he’s got a fire in him that could burn Leo alive if he pushed hard enough.

And _god,_ does Leo want to push.

He knows that fantasizing about his friend-turned-betrayer-turned-fellow-fugitive is probably messed up, but it’s hardly the worst thing he’s done. It’s definitely not in the top ten--hell, it’s not in the top fifty.

But it is getting annoying. The further they get from California, the longer they’re able to stay in one place, but they still aren’t lingering anywhere for more than a week at most. It isn’t like he has the time to get comfortable and luxuriate in his depravity when they’re up and out every few days. If anything, he’ll get a quick jerk-off in some scummy motel shower--and that’s when they’re actually able to spring for a room. Nonetheless, every single time, Vincent is front and centre in his filthy imaginings.

It’s frustrating, but he knows that he’s never going to act on his increasingly inappropriate thoughts. Vincent is a married man; a _straight_ married man; a straight married man who’s just thrown his entire life away to save Leo’s. They’re slowly rebuilding their friendship from the ground up, and Leo isn’t going to fuck that up by thinking with his dick.

Of course, he wouldn’t turn Vincent down if he miraculously _did_ proposition him; if he slipped into Leo’s sleeping bag in the middle of the night, ran his hands over every inch of his skin before retracing his path with his lips and tongue and _teeth_ and goddamn it, Leo’s hard again.

“How long until the next stop?” he speaks up, breaking the silence in the truck. Vincent glances at the map spread over the console.

“Probably a few more hours.”

Leo resists the urge to groan as he inconspicuously positions his bag on his lap.

He really has no idea what caused it in the first place, but it makes sense in a way. Vincent’s hot; there’s no two ways about that. Sure, he’s grumpy and cross, and he’s got a stick up his ass the size of a flagpole; but he’s also clever and witty and smug, and damn him if those aren’t traits that Leo loves in a guy.

The first one is a fluke, it must be. Those sorts of things happen: one minute he’ll be jerking off to some shapeless fantasy his mind cooks up, and suddenly his brain’s replaying a toothpaste jingle he heard five years ago; the mind wanders. So the sudden image of Vincent’s hand replacing Leo’s own and his lips on his neck isn’t a big deal. It makes him come, and he puts it out of his mind.

Or, he tries to.

The next one is harder to ignore. It’s their first night in a new motel, and he’s taking advantage of his first access to a shower in a week by jerking one out before bed. He isn’t thinking of anything in particular, so it’s a bit of a shock when he gets a vivid image of Vincent behind him, pressing him into the wall, fisting his cock as he thrusts into him.

His eyes fly open and he shudders, orgasm hitting him out of nowhere, and he has to quickly bite down on his hand to keep from crying out.

Afterwards, while he’s numbly washing his hair with the post-orgasm buzz still settling in his bones, he can’t help but revisit the thought. Of course, he knows that it was probably an image of convenience--he was horny, Vincent’s always with him, and his mind filled in the gaps. 

What’s bugging him about it is the position his brain decided to put him in: obviously pinned and at Vincent’s mercy. He’s bottomed before and has no real aversion to it, but he still usually prefers to be the one in control; the one taking somebody else apart. And yet…

And yet, the thought of Vincent shoving him against the wall, trapping him between his cock and his hand, taking control of his pleasure...it hits Leo in a way he isn’t used to.

What’s bugging him about it is that he’s not so sure he minds.

He finds himself wondering if Vincent really would be like that--as firm and dominating as he’s become in Leo’s head. It doesn’t make a difference, of course; his fantasies are all he’s going to have, so why not let them be whatever his mind (or his dick) feels like making them?

Still, the thought is always in the back of his mind, hidden in the secret corner of his brain; the one that only makes itself known in those few minutes after getting off. It’s a corner that he doesn’t like to visit, because then he starts wondering other things, more dangerous things: how it would feel to have Vincent’s warm body next to his in bed while they catch their breaths at the same time; whether or not he’d be a cuddler after sex; if he’d be sleepy and affectionate after, running a hand through Leo’s hair, whispering sweet nothings into his ear--

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if Vincent would do any of that--or if he did back when he was with his wife. Fuck, his wife--how does Leo keep forgetting about her? Maybe Vincent doesn’t talk about her often, but it should still be something that sets off alarm bells in his head.

He tries to get that stuck in his brain. He tries when he wakes up to see Vincent half-dressed in the early mornings-- _married, married, married_ \--when he notices how his eyes turn honey-brown in the afternoon light-- _married, married, married_ \--when Vincent laughs, _really_ laughs, loud and contagious with that smile that could melt the north pole-- _married, married, married, married, MARRIED._

God. Is it wrong to wish that Vincent had never mentioned her? If Leo didn’t know, maybe he wouldn’t feel like such a piece of shit.

_Yeah,_ he thinks bitterly, _because that’s loads better._

Christ.

Their next stop is in a small town between Butt-Fuckington and Nowheresville, and they manage to secure a motel room for a few days while they plan their next course. The place is small and dingy, and probably breaks ten health and safety regulations in the lobby alone; but that means it’s dirt cheap, and they get a two-bed room with no questions asked. 

Full of restless energy from the drive, Leo dumps his bag on the floor and bolts for the far bed, throwing himself onto it so hard that he almost overshoots. He hears Vincent scoff and sits up to see him standing by the door, arms crossed and obviously trying not to laugh.

“You’re a child.”

“Yeah, well, you fart in your sleep and I want to be as close to the window as possible.”

The affronted look on Vincent’s face is so exaggerated that Leo can’t help but crack up. He falls back onto the bed in a fit of laughter as Vincent splutters through a series of half-formed defenses.

When he catches his breath with a few hiccups, he sits back up and gives Vincent a shit-eating grin. Vincent just glares daggers at him, and it’s almost enough to break him down again.

“At least I don’t hump my pillow,” Vincent grumbles, turning away to rifle through his bag. Leo chokes on air, immediately sobering up. Vincent’s caught him one too many times in the middle of a good dream, and despite his penchant for teasing, he rarely brings it up (thank god.)

Leo’s just grateful he doesn’t talk in his sleep, because every single one of those dreams have been about him.

Luckily, Vincent’s too busy with his bag to notice Leo’s composure slip, so he forces a grin and walks over, slinging an arm playfully around his shoulders.

“Come on, we’re grown men. What’s a few farts between friends, huh?”

“Go suck an egg.”

Leo snorts.

Surveying the room turns up nothing of note. There’s a bedside table, a desk with an ancient-looking coffee maker, and a rickety cabinet on the other side of the narrow room. Out of curiosity, Leo slides open the cabinet door and raises his eyebrows.

“Look at this--we’ve got a TV.”

Vincent glances over from where he’s looking over the map. “Huh. Can’t say I was expecting that out of a place like this.”

Shrugging, Leo grabs the remote and flops down on his bed. Vincent watches as he turns the TV on and starts flipping through the channels.

“I hope those aren’t pay-per-view.”

“Nah,” he replies, frowning a little at the screen. “There’s only four channels, and none of them are worth paying for.”

“Well, watch whatever you like. Unless--is there a news station? It might be a good idea to--”

“Oh, hell yeah!”

Leo cuts him off, sitting up on the bed with a grin. Vincent gives him a curious look, and he gestures at the two flashy wrestlers fighting in the arena on the screen.

“This is my shit man, I used to watch this stuff all the time!”

The visuals are awful, but it’s better than nothing. Leo tosses the remote aside and scoots to the foot of the bed to see better, and when he sees Vincent craning his neck to get a look, he slides over and pats the bed beside him.

“It’s better up close,” he explains as Vincent takes a seat. “You get to see the costumes and all the kick-ass moves.”

The fighters are two that he hasn’t seen before, but he recognizes some of the moves and points them out to Vincent.

“See, that’s a pretty common hold, but any wrestler worth his salt’s gonna--yeah, see, like that! It’s pretty easy to swipe their legs out when they stand like…”

He trails off when he notices the glassy look in Vincent’s eyes. “Hey come on man, it’s cool!”

Vincent blinks, giving him a look that he can’t quite place.

“You do know all of it’s fake, right?”

Leo’s mouth drops open. Vincent raises an eyebrow.

“You--I can’t believe--how fucking dare you?!”

“Oh come on, Leo,” Vincent says. He waves a hand towards the screen where one of the wrestlers is balancing on the ropes, ready to pounce on his opponent. “It’s obviously scripted. Those moves aren’t any use in an actual fight; they’re completely impractical.”

“Bullshit!” Leo pokes a finger into Vincent’s chest, and his eyebrows raise further. “You’re just saying that because you can’t do it.”

“I don’t _need_ to do it.” He brushes Leo’s hand away, but there’s a familiar glint in his eyes at Leo’s challenging tone. “There’s no point in learning something like that; it’s completely useless.”

“Oh, yeah? Sounds to me like you’re scared you wouldn’t be able to pull it off.” He can’t help but push now that he knows Vincent will take the bait. It’s a cat and mouse game for them, a battle of wits to make the other break first; neither of them can pass up a challenge.

Vincent doesn’t disappoint.

“Well, if you’re so sure about that, then why don’t _you_ show me how it’s done?” he taunts. Leo grins.

“You are so fucking on.”

It probably isn’t the best idea, but that’s never stopped them before. Despite his indifferent front, Vincent’s quick to push his bed against the far wall to make room, leaving him standing in the middle of the floor with Leo balancing on his own mattress.

“Okay, so,” Leo starts, shifting his weight on the lumpy surface, “what they usually do with this one is stand on one of the top ropes, like so…”

He bends his knees slightly and holds his arms out, trying to imitate the stance of the wrestlers. Vincent looks unimpressed, but Leo knows him well enough by now to know that he’s trying not to smile.

“You look like an idiot.”

“That’s a bold thing to say to someone who’s about to jump on you.”

Vincent’s eyes widen. “Wait, what?”

“Were you paying attention at all?” Leo complains. “The guy on the top jumps down, and the other guy either falls and gets pinned, or uses the momentum to pin his opponent.”

Vincent’s looking at him like he’s trying to decide whether or not he’s joking. Leo grins.

“Don’t worry, I’ll count you down.” He shifts his stance again, readying himself.

“Leo, I really don’t think this is a good--”

“One…”

“No, wait, we really shouldn’t--”

“Two…”

“Caruso, I swear to all that is holy--”

Leo launches himself off of the bed before VIncent can finish his threat, and the force sends them both toppling to the ground with a _thud!_

VIncent shouts a string of curses while Leo just laughs, using his weight to pin him to the ground. They’re probably both acting like fools, but he just can’t bring himself to care as he sits up on Vincent’s hips, grinning widely.

“Three.”

If looks could kill, Vincent’s glare would slaughter him.

“You,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger up at him, “are an absolute nightmare.”

“Sure am,” he chirps.

He feels Vincent tense under him just a second too late, and before he can react, he’s being flipped over and shoved to the ground. VIncent brackets his hips with his legs and pins his wrists to the floor on either side, keeping him down.

“See,” he says with a smirk, “that took less time and effort than your showy TV stunt, and it’s infinitely more effective.”

Leo wants to make a snappy comeback, he really does. But Vincent’s leaning over him with that damned cocky smirk, and his hair is ruffled from their tussle, and his hands are tight enough that Leo can feel their weight against his pulse points and suddenly, a smart remark is the last thing on his mind.

A flash of panic shoots through him when he can feel the telltale rush of blood to his lower half.

In a desperate attempt to regain control, he manages to rear up quickly enough to catch Vincent off guard. They struggle for a few moments, both trying to gain the upper hand. Ultimately, however, Leo’s distracted enough that Vincent gets him on his back again, this time pinning him down with his forearm tucked snugly under his chin. He grabs both of Leo’s flailing hands with his free one and yanks them above his head, holding them against the scratchy carpet.

The room is silent, apart from their heavy breathing and the staticky murmur of the TV.

The surprise of being pinned a second time leaves him a few mental steps behind, and it isn’t until Vincent shifts in a very unfortunate way that Leo remembers he has a problem. Vincent’s thigh rubs against his hardening length through their jeans, and to his horror, a soft noise escapes him before he can stop it.

His heart sinks to his toes when Vincent’s eyes widen. He scrambles off of Leo, jumping to his feet and taking a good few steps across the room. Leo’s face is burning, and he opens his mouth to apologize without any idea of what he’s going to say.

Vincent beats him to it.

“I’m--shit, I’m sorry, it’s not--it’s not anything, it just happens, you know?”

That gives Leo pause, confusion momentarily replacing his dread.

“Why are _you_ apologizing?” he asks without thinking. Vincent meets his eyes, and his expression throws Leo off.

“I--I don’t want to make it weird, you know? It’s got nothing to do with anything, I swear. I can just...uh…”

He trails off, and Leo watches his eyes drop to where he _knows_ the lump of his half-hard dick is visible in his jeans.

“Uh.”

Vincent looks down at himself, and Leo follows his gaze to see a matching bulge in his pants. His stomach flips.

“It’s--”

“You--”

They speak at the same time. Leo snorts despite himself, and to his surprise, he sees Vincent’s lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile.

“You first,” he says, flapping a hand vaguely towards Vincent.

Vincent chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. He keeps eye contact with Leo as he slowly walks forward, even though his face is visibly flushed and his smile is almost shy. It’s a good look on him, Leo thinks distantly.

“Well?”

He stops when they’re nearly toe-to-toe; close enough that Leo could reach out and touch his face, or grab his hair...he stays still though, rooted to the spot as Vincent’s eyes seem to search for something in his.

“I forgot,” he says quietly. A soft laugh bubbles out of Leo’s chest.

“Yeah. Me too.”

They meet halfway; Leo curling his fingers in the fabric of that stupid paisley shirt while Vincent reaches up to cup his face in his hands. There’s a sort of hesitancy to it, as if neither of them are allowed to have this; but when Leo pulls him closer at the same time Vincent reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, he realizes he doesn’t give a shit.

He resists the urge to chase after Vincent’s lips when he pulls away. He knows he’s probably acting desperate--probably looks red and dazed and glassy eyed with want. But Vincent’s lips are parted invitingly, and the golden flecks in his eyes are swallowed by the dark of his pupils and honestly, at this point he couldn’t care less.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Vincent murmurs--unintentionally, if the way his eyes widen after is anything to go by. Leo hums, unable to tear his eyes from his mouth.

“Yeah? How long?”

Vincent laughs.

“Try the first goddamn day I met you.”

He’s still laughing when Leo kisses him again, more urgently this time. Leo feels the rumble of it under his hands where they rest on Vincent’s chest, and he can’t help but grin into the kiss.

“Glad to know we could’ve been doing this months ago,” he says, his words broken up by the intermittent kisses he’s started trailing over Vincent’s neck. He feels him swallow, adam’s apple bobbing under his lips.

“Plenty of ways we can make up for lost time,” Vincent offers, and _fucking hell yes._

“Show me,” he says insistently as he lifts his face to nip at Vincent’s lip. “Show me what you’ve wanted to do to me.”

Vincent’s breath comes out shaky against his lips, even as he smirks.

“How long do we have?”

“Shit,” is all Leo says, and he chuckles again.

He pulls Leo forward with the next kiss, walking back towards Leo’s bed. Their knees knock when they stop abruptly, and then Vincent’s pulling away to fall onto the mattress.

He shuffles to lay the right way at the same time that he reaches for Leo, who’s already leaning down to capture his lips again.

Straddling Vincent’s hips like this gives him a head rush; he can feel the hard planes of his body underneath him, warm and firm and grounding.

_This is really happening,_ he thinks, and grows dizzy with the thought.

Vincent does the exact opposite of helping with that when he grabs Leo’s hips, pulling him down to grind against him. He feels the hard line of Vincent’s dick against his thigh, and he just manages to stifle an embarrassing sound with another kiss.

“I don’t--” Vincent gets out between kisses, “know--how far you--want to go.”

“Yes,” Leo mumbles against his lips, drawing a chuckle from him.

“We can take it slow--”

“Vincent, I’ve been wanting you for fucking _months_. If you’re seriously asking me if I need to take it slow, I’m going to bite you.”

Vincent’s breath hitches audibly, and Leo’s eyes widen. He hurries to backtrack and explain himself.

“That’s not--that didn’t come out right. If you want to take it slow that’s completely fine, honestly just this is already amazing--”

It’s his turn to be cut off when Vincent pulls him down again, kissing him quick and dirty. His tongue swipes Leo’s lips when they part.

“Trust me Leo, you and I are exactly the same page.”

His tone is dark and low, and Leo shivers from the base of his spine to the top of his head.

“Fuck,” is all he manages to choke out.

“If you want.”

The effectiveness of Leo’s eye-roll is probably undermined by how he’s practically shaking with want, but he does it anyways.

He gets his shirt off and on the floor and is about to go for Vincent’s, but he grabs Leo’s hips and flips them so he’s hovering over him on the bed.

He unbuttons his own shirt with fumbling fingers while Leo runs his hands over every inch of skin as it’s uncovered. He can’t believe this is something he’s able to do--he’s actually allowed to _touch_.

So he does. As Vincent wrestles out of his shirt, Leo explores the dips and curves of his body, up and down until his fingers hook in the waistband of his jeans. He looks up, a silent question in his eyes.

Vincent breathes out heavily. He takes Leo’s hands almost gently, moves them to the button of his pants and cants his hips forward a little in invitation.

Leo’s quick to undo his flies, cupping the length of Vincent through his boxers. His mouth waters at the heat he can feel from Vincent’s gaze and cock at once.

“I wanna blow you,” he mumbles, almost without meaning to. Vincent gives a breathless laugh.

“I mean, I’m not going to say no.”

His jeans are discarded along with their shirts, and Leo’s quick to attack his neck with his lips and teeth as he slides his hands down the back of his boxers.

He cups Vincent’s ass as he pushes them down, giving a hard squeeze on the way. Then he lowers himself to his elbows on the bed, getting eye-level with Vincent’s dick, hearing the soft murmur of encouragement from above him. He looks up, gives Vincent a hint of a grin before grabbing his dick at the base and guiding it into his mouth.

“Oh,” Vincent sighs, lifting a hand to Leo’s hair. “Oh, shit.”

Leo hums around him, licking over the head. He _knows_ he’s good at sucking dick, so it’s with an excited sort of pride that he looks up, making sure Vincent’s watching, before slackening his jaw and sinking down.

It’s been a minute since he’s done this, but by the bitten-off noises Vincent’s making above him and the way his hands tighten in Leo’s hair, he’s doing an alright job. His own dick is rock hard trapped in his jeans, and he angles his hips down to rut against the bed, hungry for any sort of relief.

“Fuck, Leo,” he hears Vincent mutter, and the next moment he’s guiding Leo off his dick. Leo flicks his tongue out against the slit before pulling off completely, earning him a tug to his hair that makes his eyelashes flutter.

“You’ve done that before.”

There’s no question in Vincent’s tone, and Leo tries to hide a smirk as he sits up to unbuckle his belt.

“Maybe. Why, you jealous?”

He’s barely got it open before Vincent grabs the ends in either hand and _yanks_ , jerking Leo forward hard enough to unbalance him. He yelps, tipping forward and crashing into Vincent’s chest.

“You’re unbearable,” Vincent mutters in his ear, and Leo hopes to god the shudder that runs through him at the tone isn’t noticeable.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” His voice trembles through his grin.

Vincent doesn’t say anything at first; just tugs Leo’s belt free from the loops and tosses it onto the floor. He pops the button of his jeans and shoves his hands down the front to cup him through his boxers. His breath is hot against Leo’s ear, voice low.

“I’m going to shut you up.”

“Fuck me,” Leo swears, dick twitching against Vincent’s hand.

Vincent laughs quietly and pulls away with a brief nip to his ear, giving him room to wrestle his jeans down.

“That’s the idea.”

His voice is teasing but for once, Leo doesn’t retort. Instead, he kicks his pants off the side of the bed and twists, grabbing Vincent’s shoulders and pulling him down as he falls onto his back.

He cuts off VIncent’s startled laugh with a kiss, quick and messy, more licking into his mouth than anything else. Vincent’s dick rubs across the front of his boxers, leaving a thin trail of precum over them.

Without breaking the kiss, he hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls them down. Leo’s dick springs free, gently slapping against his stomach, and he quickly kicks his boxers down his legs, leaving him bare.

Their lips part with a wet noise, and Leo’s grateful for the chance to catch his breath. He looks up at Vincent, lips parted as he pants slightly.

His chance is taken away when Vincent shifts on top of him and wraps his hand around both of them together. Leo’s breath hitches at the same time that Vincent hangs his head to mouth at his neck, and he tilts his head almost unconsciously to bare more skin to him.

He hisses at the first sting of teeth against his skin when Vincent nips at it, testing the waters. When he trails his lips farther down and sinks into Leo’s neck _hard,_ Leo’s hips buck up into the tight hold of his fist, the slide of them together eased by spit and the precum starting to shine at his tip. It’s not enough though, and he reluctantly tugs Vincent away from where he’s laving his tongue over the bite.

“How far are we gonna go?” he asks. “Because as much as I want you to fuck me--which is a lot, trust me--we don’t really have anything to, ah... _ease the way,_ if you get my drift.”

Vincent blinks a few times, and it hits Leo then that this is probably his first time with a guy. He feels suddenly nervous--what if he isn’t able to live up to Vincent’s expectations? What if he ruins this completely? What if Vincent’s about to pull away, say he’s changed his mind, that he doesn’t want Leo the way he wants him and--

“There’s lotion in the bathroom,” he says, breaking through Leo’s building panic.

The anxiety leaves him in a rush of air, and he laughs breathlessly.

“Yeah, yeah that works,” he says with a grin, pressing one, two quick kisses to Vincent’s lips before pushing him back. “Go, hurry up.”

Vincent scoffs, but he crawls off the bed and disappears into the bathroom.

Leo folds an arm behind his head and smoothes his free hand over his stomach, closing his eyes and giving his dick a few lazy pumps while he waits.

Something plops down next to his head, and he opens his eyes as Vincent climbs over him again. His finger blindly curls around the small bottle next to the pillow and he pops the cap, keeping eye contact with Vincent the whole time.

He doesn’t look away as Leo squeezes some of the cheap lotion over his fingers and reaches down to circle the rim. As much as Leo’s tempted to tease, he seriously can’t wait a second longer than he has to, so he settles for a cocky grin as he slides in his middle finger.

It’s been quite a while since he’s bottomed, so he takes a minute to adjust. He watches Vincent carefully the whole time, drinking in the pure _want_ in his expression. To have his attention like this--dark eyes hungrily taking in every inch of him, restless hands trailing over his torso--it feels amazing. It makes his skin prickle, makes his breath catch; makes his eyes roll back as he presses a second finger in, then a third.

“Fuck,” Vincent murmurs above him, sounding almost in awe. Leo laughs, voice breaking halfway through as he crooks his fingers just right and a shock of pleasure makes him jolt.

“That’s--the idea,” he snarks. Vincent huffs, and Leo feels the sheets bunch up when he clenches them.

“Brat,” he mutters, and Leo’s breath leaves him in a rush.

“Okay,” he says, grimacing slightly as he pulls his fingers out, “you need to fuck me, like, yesterday.”

Vincent laughs, which Leo would kick him for if he didn’t follow it up with a quick kiss, before sitting back and grabbing the lotion himself. Leo doesn’t even try to hide his want as he watches him squeeze a generous amount onto his hand and slick himself up in a few strokes.

“Ready?” he asks, leaning down over Leo and pressing the tip of his cock to his entrance.

Leo grins, turns his head to catch Vincent’s lips and give them a sharp nip.

“So fucking ready.”

Vincent slides in slowly, hot and hard and stretching him _so_ fucking good. Leo’s brows knit and he moans, one hand flying up to grip the back of Vincent’s neck while the other clenches the sheets beside him. It’s been long enough that the stretch burns, but he prepped well, and soon the pain turns mild enough to only enhance the pleasure. He fights back a whimper as Vincent bottoms out in a few slow thrusts and stays for a moment, hips pressed to Leo’s ass. Leo pries his eyes open and looks up at him dazedly.

The look in Vincent’s eyes is so intense that he has to bite down on another embarrassing noise. His hands on either side of Leo’s head are tensed, fingers gripping the sheets, and he’s looking at Leo like he wants to _devour_ him. He clenches involuntarily, and Vincent’s lips part ever so slightly as his brow creases.

“Move,” Leo whispers.

He groans softly as Vincent starts to rock into him. His legs twitch, knees knocking against Vincent’s sides, and after a few minutes he’s squirming against the sheets. He runs his hand up to scratch his fingers through Vincent’s hair, tugging aimlessly at the strands.

“Faster, fuck…”

“Leo,” Vincent murmurs. He brushes his lips against Leo’s neck gently, _too_ gently, and Leo lifts his hips and tries to rock back against him.

“Vincent, c’mon, faster, I need it--I need _you._ ”

That must hit the right button, because Vincent makes a rough sound against his skin and suddenly drives his hips forward. Leo can’t hold back the sound he makes at that, and he clenches his teeth to try and choke it off. Vincent does it again, then again, each time punching a weak noise out of Leo’s throat. With every little sound he speeds up, until he’s pounding into Leo, spearing him on his cock.

The bed’s rocking, headboard bumping against the wall just loud enough to hear over their panting breaths and joining bodies. Leo turns his head to the side, biting into his hand to muffle his whimpers, but as soon as he does Vincent’s grabbing his face, roughly turning his head so he’s forced to meet his eyes.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. “Let me hear you.”

Leo swallows hard, and nods as best as he can in the tight grip.

He bends his knees, raises a leg to hook around Vincent’s hip. His rhythm doesn’t falter as he slams into Leo, hips slapping against his ass in the most obscene way. His dick is grazing Leo’s prostate with every few thrusts and it’s good, _so good,_ but not enough.

“Vince, fuck--hang on a sec.”

Vincent stops immediately. Before he can get the wrong idea, Leo pulls him down for a quick kiss.

“I wanna try something,” he murmurs. “Pull out a sec, yeah?”

He does, and Leo flips over onto his stomach. He pulls one of the lumpy motel pillows under his hips to angle them up, before looking back over his shoulder. Vincent is kneeling behind him with his hand wrapped around his cock, thumb toying with the head. Leo grins.

“C’mon Vince, I don’t have all day.”

Vincent’s eyes narrow, and Leo’s grin just widens when he grabs him by the hips and pulls him back. His dick slides over Leo’s ass, leaving a wet smear on his skin.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, Caruso.”

“Yeah?” Leo pushes his hips back, biting his lips with a smirk. “Guess that means you’re not doing a good enough job shutting me up.”

He’s barely able to catch a glimpse of the snarl across Vincent’s features before his hand darts out, shoving Leo’s face against the bed. Leo’s stomach flips at the rough treatment, eyes rolling up.

“Oh _fuck yes_ \--” he chokes, hardly getting the words out before Vincent’s lining himself up and pressing back in.

He bottoms out in a single thrust, and Leo’s body immediately lights up with pleasure as he presses _just right_ against his prostate.

“Fuck!”

Vincent immediately picks up the same pace they left off, and now Leo couldn’t hold back the noises if he tried. His hand shoots out in front of him, grappling for anything to hold onto as Vincent pounds into him, hitting all of the right spots and driving him _insane_.

“Vince,” he gasps, then cries out when Vincent growls and bites into his shoulder, “Vince!”

“Leo,” Vincent groans. Leo just whines, rocking his hips back to meet his thrusts.

“So good, Vince, fuck--”

His voice cracks as he starts to feel the heat build in his gut. His own sounds foreign in his ears--high, breathless, begging. From the way that Vincent’s thrusts stutter with every whimper, he doesn’t seem to mind.

The mattress dips on one side as Vincent props his foot on it, and then he’s lifting Leo’s hips, and--

“MmmmFUCK!”

Leo’s fingers clench the sheets hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. With the new angle, every single thrust has Vincent slamming unrelentingly into his prostate. Suddenly he’s so fucking close, the pleasure bordering the line of overstimulation.

“V-V-Vi--Vince--” he whimpers, barely audible to himself over their slapping skin and the rush of his blood in his ears.

Suddenly he’s being lifted, pulled up to lean against Vincent’s chest. He holds him close--which is probably a good thing, because Leo’s knees are shaking so bad that he doesn’t stand a chance of staying up on his own. He slumps back against Vincent, head lolling back to rest on his shoulder as he reaches up to hold the side of his face.

Precum is dripping steadily from his dick, and more spurts out when Vincent wraps his hand around him and starts jerking him off in time with his thrusts. His other hand flattens against Leo’s chest, sliding up until it’s at his throat--not squeezing, just resting against it like a grounding weight.

It takes him a moment to realize that Vincent’s murmuring in his ear: sweet nothings, whispered praise, telling him how he _feels so good, you feel fucking amazing Leo--fuck, gonna make me come baby--come for me Leo, wanna feel you--_

His wrist twists just right at the same time that he gives a particularly deep thrust, and Leo snaps.

His eyes widen and he arches up, throat pressing into Vincent’s grip and hips jerking as he comes _hard._ He spills over the sheets in a few long spurts, and a wrecked sob escapes form his throat, eyes screwing shut as the waves of pleasure crash over him.

It seems to go on forever, but as soon as it’s done, he goes boneless against Vincent’s chest, body trembling with aftershocks. Vincent holds him up and slows his thrusts, but Leo shakes his head and clumsily mouths at his jaw, mumbling against his skin.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers, voice wrecked, “please, fill me up…”

Vincent sucks in a sharp breath.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but he’s already starting to move again.

Leo nods as best he can.

“Please,” he begs.

His mouth falls open as Vincent groans, and starts thrusting in earnest. Overstimulation makes him shudder with every slide of Vincent against his walls, but he’s holding Leo up and murmuring in his ear, and Leo’s never felt so fucking good.

He guides him back down to lay on his stomach, not pulling out or slowing down.

“Leo,” he whispers in his ear, “fuck...so good, baby, so fucking good...christ, _Leo--_ ”

He cuts off with a low groan, giving one last deep thrust and keeping his hips flush to Leo’s ass. Leo hiccups on a breath as he feels Vincent’s cum filling him, overstimulated tears burning the corners of his eyes and spilling hot down his cheeks.

Vincent stays that way for a few moments before pulling out, falling onto the bed beside him. Leo manages to get his body to cooperate enough to roll over, and Vincent seems to be on the same page; he opens his arms before Leo can ask, letting him shuffle forwards into his warm embrace.

His arms loop around Leo, holding him close. The only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the thrum of Vincent’s heartbeat against his ear, and the barely audible hum of the television. 

The drying cum on Leo’s thighs should probably be bothering him, but for the moment, he’s wholly content with laying in Vincent’s arms and letting him work his fingers through Leo’s sex-tangled hair.

The gentleness of the moment hits him out of nowhere. Vincent’s breathing has evened out, and he’s stroking Leo’s hair in a rhythmic way that calms his frayed senses. He realizes that this is the point where his fantasies usually end; he’s never been able to bask in the afterglow before the guilt settled in. But in Vincent’s arms, the guilt doesn’t come; just a deep, permeating warmth. He buries his face in Vincent’s chest to hide his dopey grin.

Vincent, perceptive as ever, doesn’t miss it. “What?”

Leo shakes his head. “Just… that was more than I’d ever imagined.”

Vincent’s quiet for a second, and Leo can hear his heart speed up slightly where his head is against his chest.

“You’ve...imagined this?”

“Are you kidding?” Leo pulls back just enough to give him an incredulous look. “I’ve wanted this for ages, Vince.”

Vincent averts his eyes.

“And…?”

Leo raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And,” he says again, an edge of doubt to his voice. “Was it a good ‘more,’ or a bad ‘more?’”

Leo’s taken aback enough that it takes his still-foggy brain a moment to process. A laugh bubbles out of his chest, and he cups Vincent’s cheek and makes him look him in the eyes.

“It was an _amazing_ ‘more,’ you dumbass.”

Vincent raises an eyebrow, but his lips curve up into a smile nonetheless. “You have a real way with words.”

“Yeah, well,” Leo grunts, stifling a yawn, “you just fucked my brains clear out of my head. I think that’s a good enough excuse.”

“What’s your excuse for the last thirty-six years, then?”

His laugh is muffled by the pillow Leo shoves in his face.

In the morning after, Vincent is sweet.

Leo doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up with the thin blanket pulled over his shoulders. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and sits up, wincing at the dull ache radiating from his lower half. The stickiness from the dried sweat and cum is gone, and his chest tightens a little when he realizes that Vincent must’ve wiped him down. He rubs his eyes and glances around the room.

Vincent’s standing over the table on the other side of the room, hunched over the coffee maker and muttering to himself. Leo watches him for a few moments with a fond smile, warmth filling his chest.

When Vincent turns and sees him sitting up, he startles and almost drops the cup in his hand. Leo chuckles.

“Mornin’.”

“Morning, Frankenstein,” Vincent says, lips going thin in the way they always do when he’s trying not to smile. He walks over and sets the cup on the bedside table, along with half a dozen sugar packets. Leo’s chest tightens further.

“How long was I out?” He shuffles to the side of the bed with a slight grimace and grabs the sugar, ripping three open at a time and dumping them into his coffee. Vincent shakes his head, and Leo grins up at him and waggles his eyebrows as he empties the rest of the packets into the cup and takes a sip.

“The whole night, as far as I know. It’s just after eleven.”

“Eleven?!” Leo yelps. Vincent shrugs. 

“You were out cold, and I didn’t want to wake you up after--ah…”

He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away with a nervous expression.

Leo quirks an eyebrow, a smile pulling at his lips. He sets the coffee down and reaches up to tug at the hem of VIncent’s shirt, making him look down at him.

“I’m not getting up for at least another ten minutes,” he says, gesturing down at himself, “so get down here so I can kiss you.”

Vincent snorts, but he leans down and lets Leo hook his arm around the back of his neck. The kiss is chaste and hardly more than a peck, but Leo keeps him close, their noses resting against each other.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmurs, grinning. Vincent huffs out a laugh and pulls away to stand up straight, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I know what a bitch you are in the morning; I didn’t want to find out what you’re like in the morning with a sore ass.”

Leo laughs. “You’re giving yourself a lot of credit there, Moretti.”

Vincent gives him a look. “Stand up right now, I dare you.”

Despite his ribbing, Vincent’s gentle. He orders them Chinese takeout while Leo finishes his coffee and pulls over the bedside cabinet to use as a makeshift dining table. He runs a bath in the cramped tub in the bathroom, ignoring Leo’s grumbled protests. By the time Leo comes out with fresh clothes and wet hair, he’s managed to get the television a little less staticky, and the sound is decent enough to be mostly decipherable. He lets Leo lay against his chest while they watch, not saying a word about his damp hair soaking a wet spot into his shirt.

“It’s completely unrealistic,” Vincent’s complaining, frowning at the TV. “Look, he’s not even balanced. All the other guy needs to do is swipe his legs out and pin him.”

Leo rolls his eyes, but Vincent’s tone is light and his arms are warm, and he can’t resist pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“It’s not a training video, Vince,” he teases. “You’ve just gotta turn your brain off for a bit and enjoy.”

Vincent grumbles some half-hearted protests, but Leo can hear the smile in his voice.

The drone of the television and the steady rise and fall of Vincent’s chest under him are starting to make his eyelids heavy. He yawns into his fist, letting the drowsiness wash over him.

“Wake me up when they announce the winner,” he mumbles.

Vincent’s chest rumbles with a chuckle, and Leo drifts off with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is! This monster of a fic has been the bane of my existence for _months_ , but it’s finally done--mostly. There was originally a part two planned, but because I’m not sure if or when it’ll be finished, I’m listing this fic as completed until I figure out what’s happening in that regard. I was experimenting with POV stuff, and it was definitely a challenge, but I’m fairly proud of how this turned out in the end.
> 
> As always, concrit is welcome and appreciated! And if you’d like, you can follow my [tumblr](https://redex-writes.tumblr.com/), where I post fic updates and short oneshot requests, or generally Talk Nonsense™
> 
> Remember to take care of yourself today! Cut yourself some slack on whatever's been bothering you--you deserve a break. Thanks for reading!


End file.
